


till death do us part

by filthymouthedslut



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthymouthedslut/pseuds/filthymouthedslut
Summary: Bellamy hadn’t expected the Angel of Death to be standing at his door on his birthday. He also didn’t expect her to look so fucking gorgeous.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Kudos: 30





	till death do us part

**Author's Note:**

> i'm baaaack. i am aware of the fact that i have 2 other WIPs but i couldn't resist.

Bellamy hadn’t expected the Angel of Death to be standing at his door on his birthday. He also didn’t expect her to look so fucking gorgeous.

* * *

When Bellamy opened the door at 12 in the morning on the day of his birthday, the last person he expected to see was the Angel of Death. But there she was. She was deathly pretty- pale skin, golden hair, red smile. No stench of death, no blood running down her hands. In fact, the only thing that separated her from those models on magazine covers was the wings as her back. They were terrifying things, darker than the blackest night. Not a feather was out of place, sitting unnaturally still despite the chill night. They almost grazed the ground, dangling just a centimeter above it.

If Bellamy wasn’t so shocked by the sight of her, he would have taken the time to ponder the oxymoron that was Angel of Death. An Angel was supposed to be the purest being. A messenger from God, according to some cultures. Not a messenger of Death, the one thing almost every human on earth feared.

But he didn’t think of this, because before he could slam the door shut, the Angel spoke.

“Before you shut the door, Bellamy Blake, I would like for you to listen,” she said, voice as ethereal as her crushing blue eyes.

The historian in him was at war with the rational side of him. On one hand, he wanted to garner every single piece of information about her, to understand, to marvel, to fear. On the other, he knew that she was here to bring him to his death. There were whispered legends about a mighty being who came to collect lives. As a mythologist, it was his job to collect those stories, not to dismiss them. Yet, he hadn’t believed in them.

But there she was.

As if sensing his hesitation, the Angel spoke again.

“You know who I am.” It was a statement, not a question. Bellamy nodded anyway.

The Angel smirked, as if pleased. In that smirk Bellamy caught a glimpse of all that she bore- death, bloodshed and violence. Yet she possessed no weapon, none that he could see anyway. Why would she need one- her eyes themselves looked like they could strike a man down.

“Then you know why I am here too,” she said.

“To kill me, I presume,” Bellamy answered, glad to hear his voice was still steady.

That smirk grew. “Not kill, no. To walk with you.”

“To my death,” he said flatly.

“Perhaps.” At Bellamy’s confusion, she continued. “I am here to listen, Bellamy Blake. Tell me your tale- and I might release you from the hands of death.”

In that moment, Bellamy wanted nothing more than to stay alive. He wanted to see his sister get married to her boyfriend Lincoln. He wanted to see his friends, to grow old with them. Raven, Murphy, Echo, Monty, Harper, Emori, Roan. So, Bellamy accepted, stepping out of his house. He took her extended hand and immediately the air around him swirled and folded, morphing. He blinked, and he was staring down a road with no end in sight. There was nothing around him except darkness. Still, he could see the Angel perfectly. The road lay ahead them, long and smooth. It was then he realized.

He was walking down the Road of Death.

He turned to the Angel, who was already watching him. He swallowed once, afraid to ask his question. But he forced himself to ask.

“What can I call you?”

The Angel stilled, face blank. Then,

“Clarke. You may call me Clarke.”

She gestured to the road ahead of them, wings folded at her back. She wore a simple tunic with pants, both black her. Her eyes which were lined with kohl crinkled as she grinned.

“Tell me your tale, Bellamy Blake.”

* * *

Bellamy started at the very beginning. He told Clarke about his mother, Selene. Selene, who was kind and good hearted. Married to a man who lived lands away. He was not a good man, he informed Clarke. Even when he was younger, he had seen the bruises and scars on her hands. His father, who left them for dead as soon as his mother’s second pregnancy was announced.

They were poor, so poor that even an abortion was impossible. Bellamy was old enough to start helping his mother. He made a good worker at the docks, young and agile. His mother sat at the corners of streets, begging for money. They managed to produce enough money to afford a dingy apartment, tiny and cramped. But Bellamy was not unhappy. He couldn’t wait to meet his sibling. They could barely eat two meals a day, forget medical care.

Eventually, his mother became bed ridden, and Bellamy had to work twice as hard. He ate only a portion of his meals, handing the rest to his mother who scarfed them down. If his mother noticed his protruding ribs he didn’t know. There was no point wondering now.

His sister was born, and Selene had to go to give birth on the dirty floor of their apartment. Bellamy assisted best as he could, having learned little knowledge about it from the old women who worked at the docks. His mother had passed out- but before she had, she told him to name the baby.

He had named her Octavia, after reading it in the only book he had. Bellamy had been the one to clean up, wiping the blood away with a rag. He had been the one to place her on his bed, and then carry his mother to the same bed.

Clarke didn’t say anything through this, but her eyes had lost their deathly glow.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Is that a bad sign?” he asked her.

“For now I am content to listen. The time to talk will come later,” is all she says.

Bellamy continues, telling her about how hard the first few months were. He was barely 7- he had no idea what to do with a child. His mother helped as much as she could, but she was barely there mentally. Years later he found out that she was suffering from post-natal depression.

Despite all the hardships that he faced, his love for his sister and mother stood strong, and he worked twice as hard at the docks. Money was a huge issue for them, especially when Octavia came along. Bellamy and Selene would eat almost twice as less so that Octavia would be full. A hungry baby made a crying baby, and a crying baby made them tired, leading to them being too exhausted to work.

“My mom killed herself when I was 14. I was in the next _room_ , and I didn’t hear anything. I went out to get Octavia a blanket and I found her there with her wrists slashed open,” he breaks off, remembering his shock. “We couldn’t afford a grave either, so we had to give her to the hospital morgue. It was hard for the next six or seven years, but then Octavia and I saved up enough money so that she could go to college.”

Clarke finally spoke. “You’re a professor yet you didn’t go to college?”

Bellamy answered, “I took online classes, and then when I was 20 I went to college. By that time, both Octavia and I had got a job so we could afford it.”

Clarke nodded, eyes fixed firmly on his face. She motioned for him to go ahead as they continued walking down the boundless road.

“College was the best years of my life. I met my friends there- not in my classes but in a bar. It was the oddest thing. ‘The Dropship’ it was called. It literally looked like an apocalyptic bunker. Anyways, I had gotten into a fight over something I don’t really remember and there was this other girl who was helping me. Her name’s Raven, and she’s my best friend now. Or was, I suppose.”

Clarke smirks again, that murderous smirk where her eyes _glowed_. “Like I said, Bellamy Blake, I haven’t decided yet whether or not you will be dying today. So I suggest you spend your time trying to convince me, not contemplating your possible demise.”

Her words were sharp and biting, her old way of speaking at odds with her overall demeanor.

“Wouldn’t want that, would I?” he says cheekily. That earned him a real smile, eyes crinkling.

She snorts. “Certainly not.”

“Raven was the one who introduced me to the rest of the gang. They call themselves The Delinquents. It’s ridiculous, I know. Jasper came up with it because we’ve all been in jail quite a lot of times.”

Clarke arches an eyebrow. “A History professor has been to jail?”

Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, red covering his cheeks. “Back when I was in the first years of uni. I was a tad bit rowdy.”

“Consider me impressed, Bellamy Blake.”

He grins and says, “You don’t have to call me my full name if you don’t want to. Bellamy is fine.”

Clarke nods. “Go on then. Tell me about your escapades with this lively bunch.”

“We used to smoke and drink almost every week back then. Then, Jasper- he died. Of an overdose. That changed us, and we ditched the rebellious children act. Raven’s a mechanic, so she made this stunning miniature statue of Jasper to keep on his grave,” he paused, remembering the kind, funny person Jasper was. He doesn’t cry. Bellamy’s past the sadness, past the anger. He just wants to remember the Jasper he knew- the one who used to sing ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’ in the shower. The one who made moonshine, a vile and disgusting drink that they had drunk every weekend.

Clarke interrupts his reverie. “Jasper Jordan, is it not?” At Bellamy’s surprise, she elaborates, “I walked Jasper Jordan down this very road. He told me about his friends, including a ‘Bell”. I assume it was you?”

Bellamy can’t think. His mind is swirling with the fact that Clarke has taken Jasper to his death, that she had seen him, had _decided_ to kill him. Suddenly, he is angry.

“You killed Jasper? You- you fucking killed Jasper? How could you do-.” Before he could say something that would most definitely damn him, Clarke rounded on him, eyes blazing.

“Do _not_ speak of what you do not know, Bellamy Blake. You were not present when I walked with him. You do not know what took place that time. Mind what you say, Blake. I do not tolerate people thinking they know why I do what I do. So tread very lightly,” she said coldly, wings flaring slightly.

Bellamy closes his mouth, taking in what she said. It’s true- he doesn’t know what had happened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just- Jasper was an amazing person. I never got to say goodbye to him. And I miss him, so much. Is he-,” Bellamy hesitates for a second, “is he happy?”

Clarke studies him, that otherworldly look fading again.

“I am not permitted to say.”

Bellamy’s brow furrows. “Permitted? By who?”

“By Death,” is all she says.

He doesn’t question her more, not sure if he even wants to know. So, he continues.

“We all sobered up after that. Raven threw herself into being a mechanic, spending all her free time in a garage. I graduated, and then got job as a History and Mythology professor. My ex, Echo, is now a professional archer. She’s dating Raven, and they both keep teasing me about how they wear the pants in the relationship when I don’t wear any. Murphy- well he’s Murphy. He’s engaged to Emori now, although I don’t know how she fell for him. He’s a colossal asshole- but the coolest one at that. Harper and Monty have a kid now too- and they’re so _domestic_ now, it’s adorable.”

“Octavia’s about to get married this year to her boyfriend, Lincoln. They have this amazing honeymoon planned too- they’re backpacking through Europe and Asia. She asked me to be her bridesman too..,” he trails off, realizing that he’s done with his story.

“And that’s it. That’s the story of Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke is staring straight ahead, not showing any signs of having heard him. After a few moments she turns to him.

“That’s quite a story, I must say, Blake.” But the road doesn’t show any signs of ending, and it gives Bellamy a boost of courage.

He asks her, “And what about you? How did you become the Angel of Death? Or were you born this way?” He’s lost all his fear now. After all, the worst thing she could do was kill him. And he was already walking down the Road of Death.

She hesitated for a second before saying, “It’s complicated.”

Despite her tight face, despite her hellish eyes, Bellamy was intrigued. He pushed, “I’ve got time. In case you, uh, haven’t noticed my life is literally in your hands.”

Clarke sizes him up, eyes calculating. Then she sighed.

“What is it exactly that you are so curious about, Bellamy Blake?”

Bellamy put his hands up in surrender. “Hey I just want to know how you came into literally the darkest job ever.”

She snorted. “All right then, Bellamy. I shall tell you my tale. And then I will decide your fate.”

* * *

Clarke Griffin was captivated by the presence of a mortal in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time. Bellamy Blake was such an _enigma._ Everything about his backstory screamed _headed for trouble_ yet he had grown into an almost perfect citizen. If one excluded all the parking tickets, of course. He was prone to over-speeding on the highways, it seemed.

This wasn’t the first time one of the mortals had asked about her before. But she seldom answered. Only to Lexa had she opened up. Beautiful, strong Lexa.

But that was a thing long gone. She had mourned for a while; then took solace in the fact that at least she was happy now. Clarke had never thought she would fall for a mortal. In fact, she had gone to great lengths to ensure that this sort of thing doesn’t happen. But she couldn’t help her attraction towards Bellamy Blake.

Clarke already knew Bellamy Blake’s story. She always knew of their stories beforehand. Like a movie she could see it unfold. Not every moment, of course, but it covered everything. Never did she reveal it to her mortals. No, instead she would give them a chance to explain it themselves. To see how they viewed their own actions, if they regretted the regrettable ones, if they faced the consequences.

Clarke had different kinds of mortals over the centuries. Some were kind and soft-hearted, some were bitter and stone-cold. Some weren’t meant to end up walking her road, while others had been waiting for ages. Some even walked her road multiple times.

But one thing remained in common- it was up to her. It was up to her if they lived or died. What came after death, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what was beyond that roaring black-and-red hole she ripped open to send a mortal to their fate. Didn’t know if that hole even looked the same to her mortals. Perhaps it looked green and sunny to some, blue and gloomy to others. She wasn’t allowed to ask.

It was one of the conditions of her job. The Flame was a mighty thing. It was, to put it simply, the world. It controlled every little thing, from the weather to the tides. Unbeknownst to the mortals, it filled every drop of space, encompassing _everything._ The mortals weren’t permitted to know this, for the sake of their sanity. Hell, even Clarke didn’t know the full extent of it.

But there was no rule that she couldn’t tell her mortals her story. So she told Bellamy Blake hers’.

“I was not born into this role, if you were wondering,” she started, eyes trained ahead. Bellamy’s were too, but he stood a little closer, close enough that his shoulders grazed her wings. He was taller than her by a few inches, her head coming to his shoulders. They fell into step, simply walking.

“I was born eons ago in a time your history books aren’t aware about. Dark times they were, yes. Not on this planet- but on another far, far away. I was a mortal too, a human once upon a time.”

“You were a mortal once?” The surprise was stark in his voice.

Clarke smiled a bit. “Yes, I was. Even on that planet, we were eerily the same as yours. More advanced, perhaps, but emotional and foolish. Running around like we were the greatest race to ever exist. We demolished buildings, destroyed _cities_ for our own selfish reasons.”

Bellamy said lightly, “Seems exactly like this planet to me.”

Clarke laughed, sharp and short. Mortals did amuse her once in a while, and Bellamy Blake did too. The trouble was that it was making it increasingly hard to make her decision now. She wasn’t supposed to interact to this level with them. It only called for trouble.

“Yes, very much so. As anyone with an ounce of knowledge in their brain would have guessed, our downfall arrived. In fact, my own father was one of the people trying to warn us about our impending doom. But our leaders were too power-hungry to even listen. They killed him before he could spread the news.” Clarke didn’t feel sad anymore. What was done was done. No point in dwelling on the past.

Bellamy inhaled a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m so sorry Clarke.”

Clarke bumped his shoulder in thanks, feeling human for the first time in ages.

“How exactly we fell, I am not sure. All I remember is me best friend’s death. He was stabbed _seconds_ before they came,” she narrated, recalling Wells’ face, bloody and bruised.

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. “Who’s _they_?”

“I am not permitted to say. Just know that there are far greater thing in the universe than us. They came to the ruins of our planet, and that is where I was offered this job. Why they chose me exactly, even I am unaware. But it was a way out of that hellhole so I took it. I thought it would be hard at first, determining whether someone lived or not. But with these,” she rustled her wings, “came a sense of detachment. It made it easier to know that I could just fly away if I wanted to.”

“You could do that? Just..leave?”

Clarke shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. But the thought in itself is comfort enough. That is how I came into this job, Bellamy Blake. That is my tale. Not the entire one but enough to give you a gist.”

Immediately Bellamy shook his head. “I want the entire thing. That was the deal Clarke.”

Clarke hissed, “Why are you so unafraid of the consequences of your questions? Do you not fear your possible death?”

Bellamy snorted. “No offence Clarke but when you literally look like a model and are 3 inches shorter than me, the fear factor sort of fades.”

“Fool,” she repeated but with no bite. The two finally came to a stop, facing each other.

They stood like that for a minute, neither of them moving till Bellamy swooped down and pressed his lips to hers. Clarke smiled against his lips, teeth gently tugging at his lower lip. The kiss was breathtaking. Soon, her hands were tangled in his hair, and his on her hips.

Clarke broke away first, winking at Bellamy as she straightened her clothes. He just smiled at her, tinged with sadness. That sobered her up as she realized that it was time. Time for her to decide if the mortal she loved, despite knowing for so less time, lived or died.

“Time was come, Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy asked, “What happens to me if I die? Will I see you again?”

Clarke said plainly, “I do not know what happens beyond the gates of death. I might be able to see you if I pass too, but there is no promise.”

“And if I live?”

Clarke smiled, soft and sad. “You would not remember me. When you next walk the path, you would view me just as you did the first time, a stranger. Only one person has held on to my memory in the living world, Bellamy, and it didn’t go so well.”

Bellamy pressed. “So there’s a chance I won’t forget?”

“Yes, if I wish it so. Only once have I done it before, and it went terribly. The knowledge consumed her and made her very soul dark. She tried to harness the power of The Flame, and it killed her. She never walked my road again.”

“Clarke- I don’t care about the flame. I just don’t want to forget you.” Tears glistened in her eyes, mirror to his. She reached out, squeezing his fingers before letting it drop between them.

“I don’t want you to forget me either. But a decision has to be made, Bellamy Blake, and I have made it.”

She kissed him one last time, fleeting and small. _I love you,_ she mouthed before ripping that hole open again. She didn’t know how it looked to him, but it looked different to her. It looked sad and heartbreaking, as if it sensed what her heart felt like.

Still, she put on a smile, gesturing to the hole as she said, “Your fate awaits, Bellamy. Step through.”

Bellamy stepped through, but didn’t pass. She took in his features, savoring the sight of him. His riotous hair, sharp cheekbones, bronze skin. All so beautiful and _mortal._ The last thing he said before stepping into the hole that led him to her decision was _I love you too._

Then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of plotholes but i plan to cover them with other couples like clexa and memori.  
> kudos and comments give me life so <333333333


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